Justine Kingdon
And so Religion I turned I walked and I ran
In such a way as to tell the whole church and then the village
you would never again come close to catching me
I ran and I ran out into the world long mane streaming all the way to the clearing
Where I danced upon the bridge of the single hair
But you king giant you could not cross over
Not with the weight of your importance
Not with the fleet of your old cold buildings
And so you called out Name yourself
I am Freedom
No longer magician’s assistant inside this church and that cathedral
emancipated now to a borrowed courthouse watching you
as you drag a comb through the grass beneath the tree outside the church
I
F
r
e
e
d
o
m
My horse and I naked this last Sunday down the red aisle of that same church
The King’s tax is bad history I told the congregation
Why pay a rich thief to play peekaboo with God
Then I turned one last time
toward that altar of yours
Religion you are no person No one bright being of infinite worth
Yet you’ve cuckolded every soul I see
That is why I leave now
And each
and every one of them
by their own bravery and light within light
can do the same